Drabbles in the morning
by Jennypen
Summary: A series of Tiger and Bunny Drabbles - collected into one place for simplicity's sake! Some smut, some feels, some sillies! Anything could happen... updated as I write more.
1. Of Duty and Love

A few canonverse vignettes of a lifetime of care.

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><p>"It must have been tough gathering all of it alone."<p>

"I've been desperate for twenty years."

And it was true. He had been. The titbits and scraps that he had managed to assemble into the current painfully-incomplete wall of information on Ouroboros, gleaned from a lifetime of searching, seeking, _hunting_ for anything that could help him to move past the only focus he had had in his life, had been the product of a lonely obsession. Thousands of hours of his time had been poured into it, and he felt no closer to finding the organisation who had claimed his life, his _family_. Whether walking the streets with a precious napkin clutched between shaking fingers, or falling asleep at a keyboard at four in the morning, search after search turning up empty and leaving an increasing sense of despair in their wake. Throughout it all, Barnaby had been alone.

Except... unknown to him, that was not strictly true.

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><p>"Barnaby, you will make sure you wrap up well when you go out tonight, won't you dear?" The voice was warm, and brought a smile to the growing boy's lips - he turned to face the woman who ostensibly kept his house but really was more a guardian than anything, to see her brandishing a small plastic folder and an expression that matched the kindness in her voice.<p>

"What's this, Aunt Samantha?"

"The forecast is for heavy rain, you don't want to ruin your drawing." Touched, he tried to thank her, but she carried on, cutting him off as he drew a breath to speak. "Have you done your homework?"

"Yes, I have."

"Good boy. Dinner will be in five minutes, where would you like to eat it?"

"In here with you." He often took it into his bedroom, and she never minded, but she was always so pleased when he ate with her, that he felt like making the effort.

She beamed, and he smiled inside. "Oh, lovely, thank you! You can tell me all about that rotten ethics professor that's giving you trouble. It'll be ready in five minutes or so, and then you can head off out."

He was so used to her calm acceptance of his personal driven quest, it never really occurred to him that it was unusual - that one's parents did not typically encourage fourteen year old boys to spend four hours in an evening wandering darkened city streets and back alleys, seeking out the lowest of the city's underworld and harassing them. Samantha never seemed to have a bad word to say about it, though, just took it on board and worked her schedule around his godforsaken one. He did not appreciate this for the miracle it was, though - he'd never known anything else.

She watched him eat, listening to him release the tension she'd seen in his shoulders the moment he arrived back from the Academy, watching him cutting his food into small chunks and neatly depositing them between complains about how his ethics teacher never allowed Barnaby to participate in class debates for reasons unknown to the insulted blond, but her mind was wandering. The rain outside was just picking up, and on cold winter nights like this, the first hints of the arthritis she had been feeling creeping up on her with the passing of years meant that the last thing she wanted to do was be out in it, but she would say nothing.

She always said nothing.

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><p>"Sir, please... please help me, I just need to know have you-"<p>

"Kid, get out of my way and go home to your mommy."

She could feel Barnaby bristle from around the corner, knew without looking the stiffness that had just rendered him rigid, and she sighed, hoping that he did not say something stupid and get himself into trouble. Again. She chanced a glance down the alley, and was rewarded with the sinking sensation that always came when she saw _that_ look in her charge's eyes.

"Listen, you clod, I am just trying to find out some information about-"

"_What_ did you just call me, brat?"

No.

Please, no. Samantha was not particularly religious, but she was sure at this stage God must have had an entire department to deal with the pleas she muttered under her breath at times like this. He was not listening tonight though, it seemed.

"I said you're a clod. Why else would you not help some in need?" Oh Barnaby, you idiot. She almost smacked her own face. He had been combing Sternbild's underbelly in the night for nearly a year now, and he still had yet to learn just how the darker side lived, and behaved.

"Someone needs to teach you a lesson in manners, kid." _God, Barnaby, use your Hundred Power NOW, please._ The aforementioned ethics teacher had not been a good influence as far as Samantha was concerned - he'd expounded on the concept that their NEXT abilities should not be used in a one-on-one fight because they were an unfair advantage, and unsporting. While this was not the worst attitude to take, per se, in Barnaby's unique situation, it terrified Samantha to hear her little master eagerly tell her about the morality of self-defence, about how he was becoming more and more reluctant to just use his power.

Barnaby hesitated too long, and the man took the opportunity and struck the boy, stunning him instantly before pulling the staggering adolescent to him, wrapping a muscular hand around a delicate neck and squeezing. Barnaby struggled limply, tears forming in his eyes, and Samantha balled her hands into fists, thinking quickly. She looked around for something, anything to help her that would be useful, and in desperation she looked up to the high-rise buildings on the other side of the street. Hitting on blessed inspiration, she drew in a dramatic gasp, pointed at a high floor that was too far away to see clearly, and shouted, "OH MY GOD HE'S GOING TO JUMP! SOMEBODY CALL THE POLICE!"

The effect was immediate. Passers by stopped moving and turned to see where she was pointing, and a crowd gathered quickly, the power of suggestion drawing a few 'oh my god, there's a jumper!' and 'I can see him, he's on the top floor!' from the assembled voyeurs. She did not pay them heed, instead listening to the sound down the alleyway behind her. She was rewarded with the merciful sound of a lithe body dropping to the floor, and heavy footsteps running to the end of the alley. She looked down to see Barnaby pick himself up off the ground, a hand at his throat, coughing and spluttering but alive.

She hastened away before he could see her, trusting that she could clean him up when he got home, knowing that he would return to her now and that she had better be waiting for him to hold him and tell him not to worry, that he'd find what he needed soon.

She told him this very often, and she always believed it.

Later that night, she stopped by his room, to find him slumped over his desk, saliva forming a gossamer thread linking him to his desk. He gave a slight shiver, and so she opened a cupboard and pulled out a green blanket, the one with the strawberries on that she had made him for his sixth birthday, the one that she caught him sleeping with under his duvet an untold number of times. She spread it over his shoulders, rubbing them softly, and she kissed his head, turning to leave. As she did so, the last words on the screen caught her eye - the zero results of a search string that had Barnaby had begun before falling asleep. She noticed a misspelling, laughing at his obviously exhaustion-fuelled mistake, and reset the search, waiting for a few minutes before the screen blazed its completed message.

_One Result Found. View Result?_

She clicked yes, turned on her heel, and walked out of the room. "Goodnight, young master."

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><p>No, no, this was wrong. This was all wrong. She had messed up badly - trusted the wrong person, not seen through the lie. How stupid could she have been, coming to Apollon when it was obvious that the person behind the subterfuge surrounding Barnaby and Emily's murders was the CEO of the very company whose doors she had fled to. She was paying for this now, watching him as he turned his back to her and walking up the stairs, heavy footfalls quietening with each step.<p>

As the man Maverick had signalled to stalked towards her with a gun, her last thoughts, an urgent prayer, repeated over and over.

_Barnaby, I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you this time._

She hoped she was right about Kaburagi.

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><p>"But DAD, all the other girls are going, why are you being so horrible about this?" Kaede had a look about her that was indignation personified, but her father merely pursed his lips, authority radiating.<p>

"What kind of parent would let their fourteen year old out this late at night, and in Sternbild of all places?"

"One who understands what I WANT." Kaede stormed off to her room, slamming the door loudly behind her, leaving Kotetsu to collapse on the sofa and rub a tired hand over his face.

"Well, clearly that's not me, huh Bunny? Bunny?" Barnaby's attention came back into the room, and he saw Kotetsu looking at him with concern, and he realised he had totally spaced out. "Bunny, are you ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's nothing."


	2. Scented Sigh

Written for Galiko on Tumblr. :)

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><p>Opening the drawer, all sense of hurry left Kotetsu as the scent hit him, distracting him immediately. How the smell of strawberries could be so intoxicating, he did not know, but suddenly his quest to find Barnaby's "much-needed" file seemed less important than discovering the source of the intensely rich strawberry note that assaulted his senses. A little fumbling and he had his prize - a deceptively tiny pot of hand cream, the lid of which was not shut correctly. With trepidation, he twisted the top open.<p>

If he thought the smell was good before, it was nothing compared to the overpowering wave of the now-loosed cream. His vision swam as his nostrils filled with fruit-scented air, and he swayed on his feet, eventually coming to a rest perched on the edge of his partner's desk. Kotetsu raised up his little opiate and ran it right under his nose, and he could no longer smell the hand cream, only Barnaby.

It was everything Barnaby was - heady, soft, delicate, deliciously deep - his signature fragrance in a small container, and Kotetsu could not help himself - he dipped a fingertip into the cool unguent, and spread it across his fingertips, savoring the aroma, rubbing it into his fingers and sighing. Long digits warmed the cream into supple skin, and all he could think was how EVERYWHERE on Barnaby smelled this way - his hands, his chest, the curve of his hips, the tip of his cock, even, he was sure, the cleft of his ass, and was that even possible? How could one scent define a person, bring images of them begging on their knees so rapidly?

He was interrupted in that thought by the object of his thought-train stalking down the corridor into the room, and narrowing his eyes at the sight of Kotetsu, leaning on his desk, white creamy fingers trying to work _his_ hand moisturizer into his skin.

"Are you _quite_ finished?"

"Oh!" Kotetsu had the decency to look embarrassed, which sent a shiver through Barnaby - shy Kotetsu was too innocently erotic a sight at the best of times, never mind a day when he was already tressed. "W-well, I couldn't find you-"

"Doesn't matter. I've got something else to do, now."

"Oh?" Barnaby walked to his side, and picked up the offending item that had waylaid Kotetsu from his task. He grinned.

"...this cream isn't just for your hands, you know."


	3. Listening Wind

For goldentiger-eyes on Tumblr. Because she loves a single dad ;)

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><p>"She misses you, you know."<p>

Barnaby's breath hitched in his throat, and he froze midstep, just managing to stop himself from crossing the threshold of the room he had been about to enter. He silently backed up, and pressed his back gently against the wall in the corridor, taking care not to bump into the two pictures Anju had hung just outside her younger son's old room, lest he make a noise and disturb said room's current occupant, whom he had just caught a brief glimpse of before he'd instinctively hid.

Kotetsu had been sitting on his covers, knees splayed wide and ankles crossed, holding a photo frame. Barnaby did not have to have seen it to know whom it was of.

"It's funny, I wouldn't have thought she'd have even remembered a lot of you - she was so little when you left, but she does. Not much, but she does - enough to miss you like I do. I miss you so much, Tomoe."

_Kotetsu_. The ache in his voice was apparent, and Barnaby frowned sadly, wanting nothing more than to run in and hold his lover, but something, something _strong_, gave him pause and held him steadfast in the shadows, listening, and hurting.

"I would say you'd be so proud of her, but you always were - and I'm sure you still are. She's doing so well in school, you know - once she got that stupid creeper kid off her back." _Ah, that one._ That boy who had worked out that she was a NEXT, and attached himself, limpet-like, to Kaede for days on end, before she finally worked up the gumption to tell him what was what. Both Barnaby and Kotetsu had been there to witness it, and been awestruck by Kaede's putdown of the fawning child. "You should've heard her, you know. She sounded just like you - I dread to think what she'll be like when she gets to sixteen."

_Oh, no._ Unbidden, a tear Barnaby had not realised was forming broke free of the confines of his elegant eyelashes, and traced a slow path down his cheek - Kotetsu was well aware of his neediness when it came to the older man, and did not often bring up his early relationship with Tomoe.

Hence why this was happening now - when Kotetsu obviously thought Barnaby was still fast asleep on the couch down the hall, under the blanket he must have laid on the sleeping Hero.

"I know I've not been that great, Tomoe - I know I've let you down with Kaede." _No, Kotetsu, you couldn't have-_ "I just... it was so hard, and I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was being the father she needed, but I was wrong." _Yes, YES, you were wrong, but you were just hurting and didn't know what to do, and you're not anymore, you- _"...I know that now."

Barnaby's eyes widened, and he blinked. _You do?_

"And I'm trying to make up for it."

This could not have been more true. Barnaby had watched him fret over a Christmas present several weeks earlier, traipsing through shop after shop searching for something that not only Kaede would love, but that would _impress_ her. It took seven hours, seven entire hours out of one day, but the end result was worth it - Kaede had wept on opening the earrings and necklace, and worn them every day since.

"I realised something, though, so I just wanted to tell you. I know how badly Kaede needed a mother - so don't think I don't know what you did."

Now Barnaby was confused. What on earth was Kotetsu talking about?

"He's perfect. You already know that. I don't know how you did it, but he's perfect. He loves her so much, as much as I do, and more, in his own way. I bet you saw that time he moved the broken train off the track just so she could get to her skating meet in time - he's such a softy.

"Anyway, Tomoe, I just wanted to say... thanks. Dunno how you did it, but I'm glad you did. Kaede needed you, and now she has Bunny, and really, it couldn't be better. I'm not great at saying things, you always knew that, so... uh... just, thank you."

Barnaby tried to suppress the sob that rose in his chest, but it spilled out regardless, and even the belated clamping of a hand over his mouth did not prevent the sound echoing in the silent night air. He closed his eyes, biting his lip.

"Bunny?"

_Oh well, own up._ "Kotetsu."

"Come in, close the door, will you?" Barnaby did so, sliding the thin door behind him shut with a soft thump, and taking a seat a few inches from the already-seated man. Kotetsu looked at him, eyes red-rimmed with old tears, but his ever-present cheerful grin lifting his cheeks. He wrapped an arm around Barnaby, and planted a kiss to his temple, brushing aside a lock of blond hair as he did so.

"It's true, you know. Sometimes I do wonder if she had anything to do with you landing in my life. Whatever she did... I'm glad of it, Bunny. You're perfect."

Barnaby didn't know what to say to that. He gawped slightly, trying to think of something to say, unable to come up with a response that wasn't a slightly livelier imitation of a goldfish. He felt the grin on Kotetsu's lips as the darker man nuzzled his cheek, and knew the subject was finished.

"Now come over here. I sense a cuddle about to happen."

"A cuddle? Is that what they're calling it these days?"


	4. Peter and MaryJane

This was written as a result of watching Youkofujima on Tumblr livestreaming. Two of us watching prompted a Lunatic drawing, and I provided the setting - kissing Kotetsu upside-down, Spiderman-style.

This came from that.

You can see the two beautiful pieces of relevant artwork on her Tumblr ^_^

Little snogging to get the day going!

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><p>That bloody idiot was chasing him again, too stupid to realise when he was so far in over his head that he was effectively walking himself to his own grave. Why the stupid arrogant Hero pursued him, a NEXT with a power far greater and more deadly, was anyone's guess, but Yuri assumed it was more to do with the glory attached to being the one to finally collar the 'devious murderer Lunatic', and not from some idealistic misplaced sense of 'justice'.<p>

Like that airheaded fool had any idea of what that really entailed, anyway.

The kid had gotten faster, though, he had to credit him that - or he would have done, if the little red-clad brat had jumped seventy straight feet into the air, like a cat stalking a bird. Except Yuri was no pigeon, and he easily swept aside mid-leap, altering his trajectory to avoid the vicious kick Barnaby aimed at his midsection. It only served to make the King of Heroes angrier, which he vocalised with a roar as he landed heavily on the roof of the nearest building. Yuri landed on a higher building, and raised his crossbow, revelling in the sense of the dramatic it gave him every time he held it aloft, even if his mask sometimes made him feel as though he were a commedia dell'arte jester. He could feel the glare underneath the red mask facing him, as much as he was sure Barnaby could sense the grin beneath his own.

"I must say, Brooks, I do admire your determination. Even when there is absolutely no chance for success, it is an honourable man that carries on fighting regardless. One could almost think you actually care about anything other than your rankings."

It was a cheap shot, and it worked. Barnaby lowered his head, his stance becoming instantly more aggressive, and Yuri had to fight the urge to laugh out loud as he saw him tense his strong legs, before launching himself anew at the villain. He was even faster again, speed clearly added by rage that burned at Yuri's uncreative jibe, and he reached Yuri before the man had a chance to brace himself, aiming high and meeting ceramic with a loud crack.

_Oh, fuck._ _Not another one._

The last one had broken because the old mal-coordinated Wild Tiger had punched him hard enough to damage his mask, but Barnaby's younger, more powerful legs were capable of so much more, and the lower half of his Lunatic mask shattered as his head was thrown back hard, stunned slightly. Barnaby turned in midair, and followed up with a sharp punch to Yuri's armoured gut, knocking him backwards to slam against a brick birdhouse on top of the the roof he'd been standing on the edge of.

As soon as Yuri hit it, he rolled over, shielding his face from the gloating Hero.

_Shitshitshit. _His jaw ached from the blow, lessening slightly as his mask crumbled, leaving his chin and nose exposed to the world. The rest of it would follow soon, as he could feel the fissures caused by Barnaby's strong kick widening. The man was on the roof now, striding towards him. He heard the shffff-click as Barnaby raised his visor to look on his prey, and the smirk in his voice when he spoke.

"I think it's only polite for us to see each other face to face after all this time, don't you?" _No, no I do not. _He was approaching slowly, taking time to savour what he thought was his long-awaited victory over the black-clad pyromaniac, but Yuri could move fast too, and he tensed his muscles, pushing himself up hard with his hands, flipping over as his eyes blazed to force a jet of flames at Barnaby. The Hero had the reflexes to fall back, which Yuri had anticipated and took full advantage of, as his momentum carried him onto his feet and he threw himself backwards over the roof's edge.

He always loved the feeling of a freefall - the wind slowing his fall even as gravity dug in her nails and pulled her to the ground's unwelcoming bosom. He closed his eyes, allowing himself the luxury of the first twenty storeys before he would start to prepare for a landing, which is why the feeling of being yanked backwards could not have been any more _wrong. _He fell, the world spun, which did nothing for his already debilitating dizziness, and he shut his eyes against the sensation and the sight, willing it away until it stopped.

Which it did. Abruptly.

When he opened his eyes, he was confused initially as the ground was staring back at him, cold and threatening, but it never moved. He then realised he was suspended from a fire escape by a familiar set of wi- oh.

"You know, considering how much those cost you to make, you'd think you'd have ducked." Kotetsu was standing right in front of him, hand still clutching the wire gun that had plucked Yuri from the sky. His hands were bound slightly in front of him, giving the appearance that he was holding onto the cable that held his bowed legs.

"Tell that to your idiot partner."

"Well I would, but then he'd ask questions, and I hate it when he asks questions." The old bastard was laughing at his predicament, but Yuri was not ungrateful enough to not realise that Kotetsu's stunt had hidden him from Barnaby, effectively saving his hide. "Besides, maybe you should be wondering how you're going to get down from there."

"I can just burn your wretched wire, you know.

"You're right, you could." Kotetsu's tone made Yuri's breath hitch slightly, as the older man closed the gap between them, reached a hand up behind Yuri's head and pressed his lips against the upside-down exposed ones of the hanging man. Fire burned on his lips as heat blossomed between them, Kotetsu's familiar warmth tingling across him, and he gasped involuntarily. He felt the brief curling of Kotetsu's lips before the brunette took the opportunity given to him and pushed his tongue between Yuri's parted ones, agonisingly softly, gently, _teasing_ him the way Kotetsu knew he enjoyed to be toyed with. Arousal curled in his abdomen as the standing man's beard tickled against his nose, but it stopped suddenly as Kotetsu pulled away slightly, hot breath still brushing against Yuri's exposed face.

"This is too cold, this stupid thing. Do you mind?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead sliding the tips of his fingers up the mask and around the back to touch on the hidden clasps which opened the mask, which separated into two neat pieces and fell to the floor, exposing him to the

Thus freed, his long white-blond curls cascaded around his face, and he opened his eyes briefly to see Kotetsu smiling warmly at him.

"What?"

"Those eyes were creepy. This is better." He threaded a few fingers through the gossamer thin strands, stroking Yuri's beautifully soft, ethereal hair, before kissing him again, firmer this time, insistent. Yuri returned it needily, meeting Kotetsu's tongue in a dance that totally belied the situation. Before utter desperation overtook him, they stopped once more, each panting for breath. Yuri grinned.

"Are you going to let me down then?"

"That depends. Are you going to follow me home?"

"Well, who knows what sort of reprobate you could meet. These alleys aren't safe at night, and a poor old man like yourself..."

"Funny." He picked up his gun from where he'd dropped it on the floor, attaching it to his belt before climbing up the fire escape and releasing his captured prize. "You know, Bunny is going to be insufferable tomorrow." Yuri made an elegant landing, dropping to his knees before straightening, and stood in Kotetsu's personal space. He licked a tongue up the man's cheek, before adopting a doe-eyed expression.

"You're the one who 'saved' me, do you regret it?"

"Nope."


	5. Diversion

Written for daphnerunning on Tumblr.

Little Yuri smut :)

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><p>It started with a twitch.<p>

Although, at this point, it was more of a tic.

Anyone who'd actually been looking at Judge Petrov in that moment would have really needed to have been concentrating to spot the near-imperceptible muscle movement in his brow, and slight tightening of his jaw. His secretary noticed it though - foolish girl that she was, months in his presence poorly masking an unanswered attraction meant she knew every line of his face, each individual strand of ethereal silver-grey hair, every flowing graceful gesture. In her own thoughts, she knew what every single expression and tone of his rich voice signified, but her arrogance was unfounded and misplaced, for the Judge she served was but a construct, a feat of social engineering to protect and hide the true Yuri underneath.

She was not wrong in her observation - they were seated at opposite sides of his desk, files strewn neatly (if such a thing were possible) across the oak surface, hours-deep into one of the longest most drawn out legal battles he had ever had the misfortune to preside over. It had descended into corporate cat-calling and he was fed up of it, and so had allowed her the distraction she timidly asked for as she made him his tea - he'd permitted her to flick on the television set on the wall opposite.

To her pleasure, Hero TV live was still airing, the cameras struggling to follow the twin forms of Wild Tiger and Barnaby Brooks Jr as they leapt from a building onto a lower rooftop, chasing two figures. The announcer reminded the viewer that the two criminals were in fact both high-powered NEXT, capable of immense strength, and the little secretary gave a shiver of delight - she did love to watch a good fistfight.

She was not disappointed - as Petrov sipped his honey-sweetened tea, a battle raged between the two sponsored heroes, and their criminal foes. Brooks managed to subdue his opponent without much difficulty, but Wild Tiger was struggling - of the two, he had managed to pick the stronger, and it showed.

As luck would have it, she turned her head to her employer just as the bulky man on screen bodily picked up the aging hero and flung him full force off the rooftop, where, with a green streak, he hit the side of a building, which cracked behind him before half of the wall fell away, concrete and mortar falling along with the suited man. His landing was heavy, indicative of an unconscious body, and another large chunk of the building wall came away, crushing him and breaking the camera's line of sight.

She wasn't paying attention to that, however, she was looking at Petrov, and so she saw the tiny twitch of his eyebrow, that tic she had noticed several times before but never known the reason for - but she was sure she knew now.

On the screen, the action was hectic - Barnaby took advantage of the remaining assailant's momentary distraction, apprehending him with a careless punch to the temple, before leaping to the ground and _tearing_ the rubble from his prone partner, before lifting the older man to his feet. He draped an arm over his shoulder and lifted him to his feet - and it was immediately obvious that though dazed, Wild Tiger would live to fight another day.

Petrov's jaw tightened and released, so fast that if she'd not seen it before she would questioned if she'd actually seen it, but the cogs in her mind turned and she hit on an idea.

"I bet the paperwork for those fines will be a nightmare."

He did not meet her eyes, merely pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips and nodded. "Quite. Thank you for your help, let's call it an evening."

Wait, that wasn't what he was supposed to say - he was supposed to laugh at her urbane bon mot and then look into her eyes... But he never did, his mind always anywhere but on her. She wanted to ask him more, but she could see the blazing anger in his eyes, and so she took her leave, angry at that stupid hero for cutting her evening short, angry at him for making her boss angry and feeling like the moment she got home, she would head straight for her bedroom and the bottom drawer of her bedside table to make up for it.

Almost as soon as the door closed behind her, Yuri slammed his teacup on its saucer. A few drops spilled over the edge and splattered the notes he'd been making, but he was totally unaware - he was doing his utmost to control the rage that burned in his veins, threatening to spill out of his eyes and incinerate every piece of progress he had made that day. He needed an outlet - fear, worry and powerlessness churned inside him, ripping his gut and twisting it.

On the screen, the camera had changed - clearly now on the ground, they interviewed Brooks, whose smarmy, _sparkling _charm distracted most viewers from seeing that his injured partner was being loaded into an ambulance in the background.

'_Will Wild Tiger be back in action soon?'_

_'It would take more than a building to take that old man out - he'll be back in no time!'_

Indeed. For once, Yuri agreed with a sentence uttered by the supermodel-cum-playHero - it truly would take more than that to knock Kotetsu back.

_Kotetsu_. It would not take long before he wrangled his way from the hospital, judicious use of Hundred Power to fool any nursing staff about the extent of his injuries, and then there was only one place he would end up - aching and sore and needy, and-

_Oh fuck._ The image was too much to handle, and despite himself, Yuri palmed his hardening arousal through his pants, surprised at himself with how fast the idea of his lover, bruised and torn and _wanting_, had taken hold in him, and a soft moan rose in his throat, escaping him along with a sob he hadn't realised was there. All of his fears, all of his fury, changed course and the only thought that was important anymore was getting to that messy townhouse and bending Kotetsu over his own bed and fucking him into oblivion - even if Kotetsu was bleeding and crying in pain, he wouldn't care, he couldn't care, couldn't stop now - _no_.

No.

This wouldn't do, this wasn't right, it wasn't just. He couldn't simply unleash his entire passion on an unsuspecting Kotetsu, it wasn't fair. And yet... The thought of tying the man down and brutally entering him, snapping his hips into him, balls-deep, burning his name into Kotetsu's skin with flaming fingers, listening to him scream and feeling him fight was just so all-consuming, that same fear overtook him again - he couldn't go to Kotetsu; not like this.

_Pathetic little slut._

_Shut **up**._

_But you are, Yuri. What is right about that? What is served by you doing that?_

_Nothing, I know, I just don't know what to do-_

There it was. A brainwave.

Desperately, he fumbled with the buttons and fly, hurriedly pulling them down to free himself. The empty air in his office hit the heated flesh of his cock, and he jerkily yanked open his top desk drawer, shoving pens and a stapler out of his way to find his prize - a half-empty bottle, containing a clear liquid. He laughed as he remembered the last time he'd used it - there had been an amusing interchange over Kotetsu's disbelief of him storing it in his desk at all, never mind his top drawer.

Slicking up his right hand, he was thankful for that same foresight, and when he touched that first, gentle brushing caress against his sex, the voice in his mind disappeared as he realised how _right_ this was. It always fascinated him how his cock could be so hard when the rest of him always felt so soft, but as he drew a teasing stroke up his length, breath catching in anticipation, he found he didn't care.

He had never really given his cock much abstract thought, but as it shuddered in his grasp, he realised that he understood it more now - he knew every vein, every fold, every variable, thanks to the amount of attention paid to it by Kotetsu at every opportunity.

Just as he was becoming more serious about his actions, the television flickered and settled, the live feed finally giving way to a pre-recorded segment about each hero - and given his earlier injury, Kotetsu's was first, and then he was not only on the screen but in Yuri's mind, every form he took melding together, until the image of a Kotetsu he only got to see on _very_ special occasions took hold, and he groaned loudly.

The Kotetsu in his mind was smiling innocently, adjusting the waistline of his old suit, slim _fuckable _hips jutting outward. It was enough to cause Yuri to cry out as, and he wrapped a tight hand around himself, fisting his cock with urgent, tight fingers.

Yuri gave up fighting it then, and panted, moaned and gasped all at once as he thrust his hips into his moving hand, chair rocking back and forth beneath him. He was wanton now - sweat soaking his hairline and neck, eyes shut tightly as he rocked into his palm and threw back his head, uncaring if anyone saw or heard him; the only thing in his fevered mind was _Kotetsu_ _Kotetsu_ _Kotetsu_.

His hand was moving so fast now, heat gradually sapping away the lube as his hand warmed and evaporated it, building to a delicious friction. He wasn't just moaning any more, he was _keening_ with want and desire, legs spread wide, chest heaving ragged breaths as his hand moved in a blur, every fibre needing to fuck Kotetsu, needing Kotetsu, fuck, _Kotetsu_...

With a sharp cry he came, spilling over his stomach and instantly staining his pressed shirt and the end of his tie, but somehow, he did not mind. His breathing evened out and he tucked himself back into his pants. Curiosity made him dip a fingertip in the cooling fluid, licking his finger clean, before reaching out to towel the worst of it off, straightening his attire and leaving his evening's work where it was, pausing only the wash out his cup before leaving for Kotetsu's home.

The door swung open to admit him, revealing, as expected, a delicately-bruised Kotetsu holding an ice pack to his swollen forehead. He smiled, then looked Yuri up and down, frowning slightly as he noticed the evidence of Yuri's spendings.

"...do I want to know?"

"No. Be grateful."

"...if you say so."

"Saw the broadcast. You feeling better?"

"I am now." Then there was _that_ grin, and the heat coiled low in Yuri once more - gentler this time, but the limp in Kotetsu's step, and its accompanying wince on his face, made him glad of his weakness to his earlier temptation.

Kotetsu would later admit that he was glad of it, too.


	6. Torrential Emotional Downpour

**Written for 100 Follower Kiriban on Tumblr - explaining my emotions through Kotetsu (and my instability through Tomoe!)**

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><p>It was the slump of his shoulders that drew Tomoe's attention - hunched in the armchair in his den, a beer bottle in one hand, and a piece of paper in its shaking counterpart. She could not see his face in the dim light from where she was standing, but across the room from the kitchen doorway, she could feel the inexplicable emotional turmoil radiating outwards. She was not quite sure how to approach him, without knowing the reason for it. When he arrived home from work that day, he had given her every impression that it had been uneventful in every way, but now, as she watched a racking sob creep up his chest and escape.<p>

She crossed the room in an instant. "Kotetsu? What's wrong?"

He started, and his eyes looked up to meet her. Two shining tracks of tears sparkled on his cheeks, and his bottom lip quivered. "Tomoe, I... It's nothing, it's just..."

"Don't give me 'it's nothing'. You're _crying_, Kotetsu. You're sitting, drinking, and crying. You told me nothing happened today, did you lie to me?"

His eyes widened. "No! I-"

"I mean, it's not like I don't worry myself into oblivion some days when I don't hear from you, and even when you get hurt sometimes you don't even tell me and I only find out when the hospital calls to say you left without your medication _again_, and then you spout some nonsense about how you don't want to worry me but you worry me when you _do that_, not when you get hurt!"

He tried to respond, but she wasn't having it, and she continued on, ire rising.

"And woe betide me asking your mother how you're doing, 'cos she just says the same rubbish you do about being a burden and blablabla, and all that noble crap is SO interesting for three minutes and I'm sure it's wonderful in an interview, but I'm your WIFE Kotetsu, not a gushing fifteen year old watching tv, and that is supposed to MEAN something."

Kotetsu lifted a finger to try to stall her, but she was too far gone, rage bursting from every pore, fire dancing in her eyes.

"But DOES it mean anything to you, Kotetsu! Do you go to work and think 'thank goodness for that, out of the house at last, leaving that ball and chain behind?"

At that, he slapped a palm to his face, dragged calloused fingertips across reddened eyelids. He tightened his jaw, and firmed his resolve to interrupt the tumbling chaos she was descending into.

"Tomoe."

"Maybe you're just fed up with me, now that I'm not fucking you every three minutes since-"

"Tomoe."

"Ok, and I KNOW I forgot to tape the Legend Retrospective two weeks ago, but I didn't think you'd hate me this much for it, and-"

"Tomoe."

"Fine, FINE I understand, you hate me, don't you. I'm fat and untrustworthy and you don't even want to share with me anymore - you're going to leave me, aren't you, I-"

He lost his patience. "TOMOE!"

She stilled at his shout, and stared at his face, owl-eyed.

"I got a fan letter today."

_...Oh._

"You-you did?"

"Yes." He was smiling now. "I brought it home with me to read when I got here, and I thought I'd have a quick look. I was worried it was going to be something like 'you're such a klutz', but... well..." He handed the slightly-damp piece of paper to her, and she took it from him, and read it, and understood immediately.

In the scrawl of a _very_ young child, it read simply '_Dear Wild Tiger, you are my favritest HERO and I lik your cool bluu soot. I hop I get a littel one and my mom dus too cos she ses its hard to mak the legings but shes trying for hawlloweeene. love yor biggdest fan, JOHNNY AGE 4 3/4._

A tear bubbled up and trickled down her cheek. "Oh god, Kotetsu, I'm... Your first fan letter!"

He looked at her with tearful eyes. "I know! I can't believe it! And it's so COOL!"

"Poor kid's mom, having to make him your suit."

"Yeah! How cool is that!" He paused, looking at his wife, and she blushed, embarrassed. He put a hand to her swollen belly, and rubbed gently, feeling a responding kick from his unborn daughter.

"You know, you do say some of the daftest things sometimes, Tomoe. Honestly. Like I'd leave you ever, and especially when you're due in three days."

"I don't know what came over me. It all just sort of... exploded up."

"I know. I understand. Just... I'm not going anywhere, Tomoe. I'm always going to be here for the two of you. Don't be afraid."

She burst into tears, and collapsed onto him, tucking her head under his chin and sobbing uncontrollably. He wrapped an arm around her, big hands stroking her arms, and smiled.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise. 'Til death do us part, remember?"

"That's what I'm afraid of."

_Dear Johnny,_

_ Thanks for your cool letter, and that amazing drawing of me rescuing that cat from the tree!_

_ I've enclosed a little present for you. Technically, they're not supposed to be released for six months, but... maybe it'll save your mom the trouble!_

_ Good luck, and stay cool!_

_ Yours,_

_ Wild Tiger._

"MOOM! MOOOOOOM! I'VE GOT A WILD TIGER SUIT CAN I WEAR IT TO SCHOOOOOOOL!"


	7. Milestone

**To go with Kotetsu's first fan letter, here is Barnaby's first fan letter ^_^**

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><p>It had to happen sometime, but he had not expected it quite so soon.<p>

The office assistant wandered past both desks and dropped a small, bound pile of plastic and papers onto Kotetsu's. With a lazy arc, he swiped up the the bundle, yanked off the elastic band holding them together and began to sort through them, dropping each one on the relevant desk as he did so.

"Fine for me... swimsuit catalogue for me... fine for me... fine for me, is Judge Petrov having a slow week, I only went out yesterday after three days off... oh, something for you, Bunny." He flung the thin greenish-white envelope onto the younger Hero's desk, leaning back into his chair and kicking his feet back into his own as he did.

Barnaby was about to complain at the repetition of his recently-acquired nickname, but his breath hitched in his throat as he reached forward and gently picked up the little missive from where Kotetsu had haphazardly landed it. He had not realised he was just _staring_ at it until Kotetsu's voice piped up again.

"Oi, Bunny, no return address. Ooh, and the front is handwritten. Fan mail, maybe? Hey, have you gotten one of those yet?"

For some reason, the tone the older Hero asked the question in rankled Barnaby considerably, and lines of annoyance appeared on his face.

"For your information, old man, I have had plenty of fan letters, thank you very much. I usually have them sent to my apartment so I can read them privately, they must have missed this one." He stuffed the letter into his inside jacket pocket. "I shall read it later, when I get home."

Kotetsu looked crestfallen, which Barnaby assumed was because the man wanted to read what gushing (or possibly lurid, knowing the depravity Barnaby was sure swam the depths of Kotetsu's perverted mind) words were inside the envelope.

No. Barnaby wouldn't share. This was for him alone.

He was interrupted in his thoughts by the sound of the older Hero ripping the plastic covering from his swimsuit catalogue and pulling it open, settling further into his chair and perusing with a crooked smile.

Definitely, this letter was for him alone.

Barnaby turned the key in his door, opening it with a casual sweep. He divested himself of his shoes, dumped his keys on the kitchen counter and walked, a little too quickly, to his bedroom. He perched on the end of the bed, divested himself of his jacket and reached into the inner pocket, pulling out the slightly-crumpled letter from earlier, before scooting backwards to rest against his pillows and headboard, knees drawn upwards to his chest.

Long, trembling fingers smoothed out the creases in the off-white paper, and he took in every single detail - the chaotic handwriting, the way they wrote his name as Barnaby Brooks Jr, Hero, in case anyone in Sternbild still did not know who he was after three weeks as a Hero...

His first fan letter.

Shakily, he turned it over in his hands and gently pushed a fingertip under the seal of the envelope and pulled the lip open, taking great care not to tear any part of it. It took over a minute to separate the two edges, but then the envelope dropped to the bed as he pulled out a single sheet of paper from its envelope sheath. Barnaby unfolded the page, and read the letter.

_Dear Barnaby Brooks Jr,_

_ Hi there! I just wanted to say thank you - a few weeks ago you rescued my daughter from the ice rink where the Helperides statue went crazy, and I'm really, really grateful. My daughter hasn't stopped babbling about 'Barnaby this' and 'Barnaby that' ever since - and quite right, too._

_ I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to her - she's my everything and you saved her. She's told me all about it - I'm so glad you were there to grab her before that piece of wreckage fell on her._

_ It's good to know that Sternbild's newest Hero has such a big heart that he put himself in danger for one little girl. My daughter and I are truly, truly thankful. You're probably already my daughter's favourite Hero - and you might just be mine, too._

_ Thank you again._

_ Yours,_

_ A relieved father._

The tear that welled up and threatened to burst from his eye never fell. Barnaby had not cried in a number of years, but he could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he read and reread the letter over and over and over.

When he woke in the morning, yesterday's clothes clinging to sweat-soaked skin, the letter was still in his outstretched hand.

Two years later, when he found the little letter again tucked at the back of a hidden scrapbook, a light went off in Barnaby's head, and then, only then, did the tears flow.

His first fan letter.

He should have guessed.


End file.
